Rosedale Park
by Pink Frosting
Summary: Mansfield Park set during WWII. Fanny Price escapes England in 1939 to live with her wealthy relatives in the prestigious Toronto neighbourhood, Rosedale.
1. Prologue

She hated the smell of the ocean. The saltiness nipped at her skin and mixed with the tears that had dried on her cheeks. She stood at the edge of the ship, her thin wool coat doing nothing to keep out the persistent cold of the water. She wrapped the coat more tightly around her small frame, trying to remember the warm, happy summers she spent with her parents by the coast in Devonshire. But now the shores of England seemed far too distant to recall, and the only image the scent of the ocean evoked was that of her parents, standing on the docks, watching as the ship pulled her further from them.

She had never thought her parents looked old until that day on the docks. Her mother had married young, and for love, leaving her little money for any of life's luxuries. Over the years, her worries and the constant strain of poverty had become wrinkles etched into her pretty face, and now she look tired, with a small forced smile trying to convey some optimism.

Her father was in the Navy, and was rough and crass, never trying to hide his dwindling position in the hierarchies of London society. His father had been in the Navy, and his father's father. He had long since accepted that this was the life he belonged to, and never concerned himself with ambitions of wealth or status. She never doubted that her parents loved each other, but always thought that love would be a little bit easier if there was money to spare.

She had tried to be angry with them. It was, after all, their decision to send her away. She remembered in the weeks before her departure, her mother and dad having the same argument night after night as she watched from behind the upstairs banister, peering through the spindles at her parents weary expressions and angry words.

"She's just a child, she needs to be here, with her family," her mother would insist, all the time knowing she would eventually lose this battle, and all the ones subsequently. But her mother would continue to argue, never wanting to admit that she could not provide her daughter with the life she deserved.

Her father, like a good sailor, would speak frankly but rationally. "Do you really want her to live a life of blacked-out windows and warning sirens? This is the best opportunity she'll have for a good life. Or rather, a life, period." The arguments would usually end on her father's word, she and her mother silent and afraid.

The summer had almost ended by the time they had reached an agreement to send her. Germany had invaded Poland and there would be a war, one that would serve to separate countries, religions, and families. She wasn't scared of the Germans, she wasn't scared for England, but she was scared of the certainty that life would never be the same.

On the other side of the ocean was a "good life." And doubt. And loneliness. She imagined what it would be like—her aunt and uncle, fair but loving, welcoming her into their lives. They had money, she knew. Her aunt had shrewdly married a Canadian soldier after the Great War and now he had made his share of the profits of the automotive industry. In her mind they were handsome, glamorous, and constantly throwing dinner parties. But they were not her parents. She wondered if their money would make loving them a little bit easier.

Her thoughts had dampened her cheeks with tears once more, and she roughly wiped them with the back of her hand. She tasted salt on her tongue again and thought about how she hated the smell of the ocean.


	2. Introductions

Chapter One: Introductions

"Fanny Price!"

She whipped around, trying to find the source of the booming voice calling her name.

"Fanny Price!"

She searched the crowded lobby of Union Station, her eyes finally finding the man shouting her name. He was large and serious and dressed all in black, but his face was still kind, with deep crow's feet around his eyes. Fanny always measured kindness by the depth of one's crow's feet.

"Hullo Fanny," he said as she approached him slowly, dragging her case of things behind her. "Let me take that for you."

"Uncle Richard?" she asked, and the man laughed.

"Not in the least, my dear. I'm Martin McInnis, your uncle's driver. Your Aunt Nora and Uncle Richard will be expecting you at home." Martin lead her to the car, one so sleek and black and _large_ that Fanny was sure she had never seen anything similar in England. Inside was even bigger, and she guessed she could stretch her legs fully across the back seat, if she wanted to, but instead crossed them neatly at the ankles, hands folded primly on her lap.

The ride from the station to her aunt and uncle's house in Rosedale was short, forcing Fanny to absorb her new surroundings more quickly than she would have liked. Modern offices flew by the car window, followed by grand house after grand house until they stopped outside of one of the grandest houses of all.

_This is where they live? _Thought Fanny, suddenly feeling dirty, shabby, and fully out of place. She quickly smoothed her dark hair back from her face, and tried desperately to brush any sign of crumbs that had clung to her coat.

Martin had pulled up to a circular drive, stopping at the main entrance, surrounded by manicured gardens. Once out of the car, she could see the house in all its magnificence. It must have been three stories high, with more windows than Fanny could count. Dark green shutters sat on sandy brick, all finished with an impossibly pristine white trim. Fanny could imagine her parents' row house in London fitting into one of the house's small wings.

"Here we are, Fanny," Martin said cheerfully. "You hop out and go right in while I take care of the bags."

Suddenly, the front door swung open without revealing who had opened it and Fanny assumed that this was an invitation to enter. Inside, the house was even more lavish than expected. Every surface of the front hall gleamed with sophistication and it smelled like furniture polish and expensive perfume.

"Welcome, Fanny."

Fanny turned to face her aunt, fashionably posed at the foot of the staircase. Her aunt managed a tight smile but her face looked unnaturally stiff and her teeth unnaturally white. "Now come in, darling, and let me have a look at you."

As she stood in the centre of the great foyer, her aunt inspecting her in detail, Fanny had never felt more self-conscious. She had done her best to smooth her rough appearance but with her aunt's eyes searching every inch of her body, her lack of style and grace was never more apparent. Suddenly her best wool coat was faded and pilled, and was awkwardly crumpled on one side from her long train ride. Her dark, wavy hair, on which she had always been complimented, now only seemed to make her skin seem paler and did not have the glossy sheen that her aunt's lovely golden hair did.

Her aunt released a small puff of air through her nose, which Fanny took to mean that she disapproved, but would hold off on her many criticisms for the time being. "I suppose I should show you to your room so you can get _cleaned up_," her aunt said, turning to ascend the wide staircase.

Fanny followed Aunt Nora obligingly, unable to speak as she absorbed the house and its contents. Her aunt continued a one-sided conversation, and Fanny was almost convinced that she wasn't even meant to respond.

"The Bertrams will be joining us for dinner tonight," her aunt stated. You know, the _Bertrams_; they are just next-door. He is in finance and she throws the most wonderful parties, although is rarely present at them. Well, she's _there_, just not _present_, if you know what I mean." Fanny didn't know, and her aunt gave a small knowing laugh.

"Anyway, _lovely _people. And very well mannered children. I wanted to introduce you right away, so you can learn by example." She paused and turned to face Fanny. "You know, Fanny, this is a very _prestigious_ neighbourhood and there are certain expectations of its residents, and that now includes you. I expect that you will behave accordingly." Fanny, unsure of how to respond, nodded silently, unable to meet her aunt's cautioning eye.

"Well, here we are," Aunt Nora said, stopping in front of a small door at the end of the long hallway. "We've given you the third floor for privacy's sake," she continued. Fanny didn't know if it were her privacy or theirs she was speaking of. Her aunt turned to leave before adding, "Dinner is at 7:00. The Betrams will be here at 6:00."

Her aunt was already making her way back down the hall before Fanny finally had the courage to speak. "Thank you, Aunt Nora," she said softly. She wasn't even sure her aunt heard her.

­­­----

At 6:00 Fanny stood at the top of the staircase, looking down at the foyer with apprehension. She was fairly certain that the Bertrams had not yet arrived, but couldn't bear to descend to another moment of judgment and knowing looks from her dear aunt.

Although, her appearance had quite improved since she first arrived. She had bathed, and changed into her very best dress, a pretty blue print with a "Peter Pan" collar and real silk trim. And it was a lovely dress, yet she was fairly certain that it would not even begin to match the attire of the other guests. Her mind began to fill with images of designer gowns with glass beads and matching gloves, but her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sharp ringing of the doorbell followed by her aunt's quick, crisp footsteps across the foyer tiles.

The door was swung open and four listless faces marched through. Fanny watched as Aunt Nora welcomed and gushed over them, her eyes wide and her bleached teeth more unnatural than ever. In her hiding spot at the top of the stairs Fanny observed the four Bertrams, still unable to bring herself to actually joining them.

Mrs. Bertram was as she expected. She was fair and fragile looking, with a small, pretty face and elegant dress. She smiled and nodded as Aunt Nora spoke, looking as if she didn't quite understand the words. There were three children with her; two prissy girls, about Fanny's age with matching curls and matching scowls, and a boy, tall and slim with a handsome face who looked moderately uncomfortable in his immaculate shirt and tie.

"Fanny! Fanny, come down here please!" Aunt Nora's shrieking voice startled her, and she took a moment to compose herself before slowly stepping down the stairs, gripping the banister as if it could save her from the five pairs of judging eyes that awaited her. And of course they would judge her. She though she heard the two girls snicker to each other as they eyed her blue dress and she could feel the boy's eyes on her all the way down the steps. Mrs. Bertram looked almost shocked to see such a _common_ girl.

"Fanny, hurry up!" her aunt said impatiently as she motioned for Fanny to stand beside her. She placed her hand almost lovingly on Fanny's shoulder but Fanny felt her sharp grip immediately, acting as a warning not to embarrass her.

"Fanny, darling, these are the Bertrams," her aunt said emphatically. She gestured to each of them as she began with introductions. "This is Mrs. Bertram, and her three children, Edward, Marie and Julia. Her eldest son, Tom, is away at University. McGill, you know. Very esteemed," her Aunt said proudly, as if she were bragging about her own son.

"Hello," Fanny managed weakly. "Very please to meet you."

At this, the girls didn't even attempt to contain their giggles. "Mother! Why does she talk like that?" shrieked Julia. Mrs. Bertram looked at her daughter blankly and Edward rolled his eyes at his sister before looking at Fanny apologetically.

"Come on, Julia," he started, "I never knew you found accents so comedic."

"Not really," interrupted Marie. "Only _hers_. It's almost a funny as that dress." The girls burst into another fit of giggles and Fanny felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. She would not let them see her cry. _They would not see her cry_.

"Excuse me, please," Fanny whispered hurriedly before turning and walking quickly toward the back of the house. She could vaguely hear her aunt calling out to her, a tone of warning in her agitated voice. But at that moment, her cheeks burning with shame and eyes filled with tears, she didn't care. And she started to run, away from Aunt Nora's disapproval, away from those awful girls and their bitter laughs.

It was only minutes later that she stopped, unable to catch her breath as the tears now rolled freely down her face. She sunk to the ground, certain that her dress would soon be stained with the muddy signs of early fall, but her legs were unable to keep her standing any longer. She thought of her mother, how she had carefully cleaned and pressed that blue dress so that it may be perfect for Fanny's introduction to all the wonderful new friends she was supposed to meet. How she hated that dress now.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she heard the soft rustle of footsteps behind her. She didn't bother to turn around, unable and unwilling to confront a cold, unfamiliar face again.

"It's getting cold out," he said, sitting next to her. Fanny kept her head down, not wanting to expose her tear-stained face. That sat in silence for a while, on the muddy lawn, listening to the birds in the trees and wind through the leaves.

Finally, he spoke again, "I love it out here. Walking through the ravine -- you would never guess that you were in the middle of a city. You could be anywhere. It's just quiet, peaceful." He paused for a moment. "You can get a lot of good thinking done out here. In fact, it seems like the only place around here that you can really think," he laughed. "I mean, growing up with two sisters…" His voice trailed off and Fanny guessed that he regretted bringing up his sisters.

"Fanny," he started, "They shouldn't have said those things to you. They're awful, I know. They just can't stand to have the attention placed on someone else even for a minute. And I'm sorry. What a terrible way to welcome someone to the neighbourhood, right?"

For the first time, Fanny turned to look at him, and gave him a small smile of reassurance. "You don't need to apologize," she said quietly. "I know that I'm… different. I know that I don't fit in here. I just thought things would be easier, better. That's why they sent me here, you know. So things could be better." Edward nodded, understanding.

"It's not so bad, really" he conceded. "You know, snowy winters, and summers up at the lake. Maple syrup, and French fries by the harbour. And hockey. We cannot forget the hockey." Fanny gave a small laugh. "See? It'll get better. I promise," he said sincerely. And looking at his face, excited by talk of maple syrup and hockey, she believed him.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?"

She nodded.

"Then I think we should start by going in for some dinner. I hear roast beef and Yorkshire pudding is on the menu and I think you will soon discover that it is a big mistake to miss out on dinner with a menu like that." She laughed, genuinely, and allowed him to help her up from the lawn.

"Thanks," she said. He nodded modestly and started walking back towards the house, the house that had once seemed large and intimidating. But now all the lights were on and she could detect the enticing scents of dinner and Edward was there, beside her.

"You know," she said, "suddenly I'm starving."


	3. Story Telling

**Chapter Two: Story Telling**

* * *

It was only days after Fanny had arrived that Canada declared war on Germany. Suddenly, the feeling of anxiety that had previously been concealed was more apparent than ever, and there was a sense of nervous excitement across the city. Young men were lining up everywhere with brave faces and dreams of heroicism. Young men who were certain their participation would stop the war before it started, convinced that their optimism and united strength could conquer anything.

Tom, the oldest Bertram sibling, had returned home from University with plans to enlist. He had always been the adventurer, and was thankful for any excuse to leave the sedentary academic life he was obligated to. He had a powerful confidence about him, and Fanny was intimidated by his size, his self-assurance, and his boisterous laugh. His sisters adored him, both fascinated and envious of his stories of parties and gambling and reckless behaviour. They teased him about matchmaking them with his many friends and he teased them about their vanity and their shallow teenage lives.

Edward easily fell into his brother's shadow, happy to pass on his family's attention. He had started medical college at the University that year, and threw himself into his studies, carefully avoiding his siblings romanticized conversations about bloodshed and war. He was a history buff, and knew the repercussions of the first war from his extensive readings and from the veiled anxiety on the faces of his parent's generation.

The excitement of the war meant that Fanny was not enable to enroll in school until a week after classes had already started. This did nothing to diminish the fact that she would already have troubles fitting in at the neighbourhood's posh private girls school. Aunt Nora had taken her shopping as soon as she realized the poor quality and variety of Fanny's limited wardrobe, although Fanny soon realized that this moment of generosity was more to ease Aunt Nora's embarrassment rather than her own. But new clothes did little to earn her any respect with the girls at school. She was forced to wear a uniform that was both unflattering and uncomfortable and her aunt, after severely overestimating Fanny's size, had purchased the blouse and jumper two sizes to large. It now hung on her small frame in a mass of itchy grey wool, making the look of sloppiness inevitable.

Her awkward appearance only perpetuated the rumours that Marie and Julia had already managed to distribute to all of their classmates. Their exaggerated stories of Fanny's humble beginnings brought them a wanted attention, and by the time Fanny arrived at school there was little chance of reversing the damage that had already been done.

After her first day of school, she waited by the front doors for Marie and Julia on her aunt's instruction. Regardless of how much Fanny protested, her aunt still insisted that she still tried to fit in with the Bertram girls.

"If the other girls at school see you walking home with such lovely girls as Marie and Julia, then you should have absolutely no trouble fitting in," Aunt Nora had stated. "Honesty, Fanny, if you are unpopular it is simply due to lack of effort."

So Fanny had waited, patiently, as the Bertrams stayed back to chat with their friends. They gabbed loudly about new dresses and makeup and parties with boys. Fanny had never heard such one-dimensional conversation in all her life, but she still strained her ear to listen, desperate to understand the life she was expected to assume. Eventually, after thirty minutes of gossiping, the girls disbanded and started their walks home. As they passed by Fanny waiting on the front steps of the school, Marie made sure to look at her before turning away to start a discussion with her sister. Unaffected by Marie's usual audacity, Fanny hurried down the steps after them, eventually catching up to the pair, and slowing down a few steps behind them.

Sensing Fanny behind them, Marie turned around to face her. "We are actually not walking that way today," she lied.

"Which way?" asked Fanny, confused.

"What ever way you're going," Marie replied plainly, not even trying to hide the cruelty in her statement.

While Fanny had come to expect cutting comments like this from Marie, she was still embarrassed by the exclusion and, not wanting to walk in awkward silence behind the girls, slowly turned to retreat back towards the school.

It was a warm day, for mid-September, and Fanny decided that she would be content on the school steps a while longer, giving her time to contemplate the day and avoid, for the moment, her aunt's constant questioning and disapproving looks.

She had just closed her eyes, enjoying as the late afternoon sun warmed her face, when she felt the light blocked by a shadow in front of her.

"So how was it?"

Fanny looked up, shading her eyes, and was surprised to see Edward standing on the lowest step. She shrugged in response, not even knowing where to begin. "It was as expected, I guess."

"I didn't know if you'd still be around," he started, "I was just on my way home from class and I was hoping I'd catch you. Weren't you going to walk home with my sisters?" he asked. Fanny replied with a pointed look as she got up from her place on the steps. "Right," he said, making the correct assumptions of his sisters' behaviour. "They leave without you?"

Fanny grinned. "Something like that."

Edward offered her his arm. "Well then, allow me the honour instead. Besides I have lots of disgusting medical stories for you today. One involves a human liver sliding around on the classroom floor." She laughed as she took his arm.

They fell into an easy banter as they walked, Edward never leaving out the gory details of his daily adventures at medical college and Fanny imitating her classmates to his great amusement. Sometimes they walked in silence, content just to have the company.

It was a ritual that they soon grew accustomed to. They were both in desperate need of companionship, and they had found it in each other. Walking through the leafy streets of Rosedale, Fanny felt safe, sheltered. It was as if the towering homes with their gates and trees and gardens shut out the evils of the world around her. Sometimes they talked about the war, but more often they avoided it. Fanny was still ashamed of the fear she still felt, and certainly didn't want to expose her childish worries to Edward.

And Edward felt guilty. Even months after the declaration of war, he still had not enlisted like his brother and his comrades. He had convinced himself that he would be more useful here, working at the medical college, educating himself so that his contribution to the war effort would be a noble, intellectual one, instead of the reckless, physical exploits of the uniformed men. But he knew these were empty excuses for his timidity and he thought himself a coward, but was too ashamed to admit it aloud, even to Fanny. Especially to Fanny.

His feeling of guilt only grew when Fanny spoke of her parents, her friends, and her little house in East London. Her memories were so vividly expressed that Edward was certain that they would all exist forever. Fanny had a gift for story telling. And not the exaggerated, gossipy stories like his sisters told, but sincere, vibrant, earnest narratives that made her eyes light up and her hands wave with excitement.

Every week Fanny wrote two versions of one story to send to her parents. Version one was the comedic version, finding the light and laughter in every anecdote. The second version was the dramatic one that uncovered the reality of the situation and exposed her feelings of loneliness, doubt and concern. She would only ever send the comedy.

The dramas were tucked safely away in a box under the bed, pushing them out of sight and into the darkness. Weeks went by, and then months, and one box turned into two, and then five and Fanny began to think that her dramas were becoming monotonous, almost boring.

And then the Crawfords arrived. And they had drama written all over them.

* * *


End file.
